


Showing Political Favoritism

by FlushedDeck



Series: Secret Love [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ?? kind of, Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Cock Rings, M/M, Other minor characters - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Sensory Deprivation, Vibrators, Voyeurism, it really isn't as extreme as the tags make it seem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlushedDeck/pseuds/FlushedDeck
Summary: They had gone from being found in the middle of a BDSM scene to confessing their secret relationship of over one hundred years; it had been quite the night.





	

_He was breathing. He had to be. He couldn’t hear it but his chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. They were shaky, sometimes quick, erratic, and all over the place. Cool sheets displaced warm skin, warm air, boiling feelings._

_His eyes opened as a thrum danced up from his stomach then back down, down, down. It made him heavy; made him squirm and pant and cry out._

_He heard nothing, saw nothing, felt everything. Every shift, every hand, every tool, every kiss. Tears ran down his cheeks. They made the bed damp, made the blindfold wet, salty._

_The bed shifted, the thrums stopped. Then he heard. His legs finally fell lax, quiet buzzing far off._

_‘Are you a good boy?’_

_Yes, yes, he wanted to shout it to the heavens. He was good, he was always good; he always tried to be good. He could only nod over and over again, stopping when a hand cradled his cheek in question. Two clicks, confirmation, filled the room._

_‘Of course you are, my lovely boy. My good boy.’_

_Hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, lower. Fingers curled, nails brushed. His lips twitched._

_‘Smile for papa.’_

_Laughter. Ecstasy. Bliss._

* * *

 

            The droning ring of the projector was the only thing keeping Alfred awake. His eyes fluttered, threatening to close in lieu of paying attention, but that annoying buzz kept pounding away at the back of his skull. With the way things were going, he would get a migraine, and the only thing he would want to do later was nothing. Maybe wear the noise cancelers and cuddle in bed. Which would be boring.

            They hadn’t been able to do anything in months. He looked, subtly, to Francis. The man didn’t seem to be too enthralled in what was going on either. He twirled a pen in his fingers while leaning on the other.

            Others were in similar states. Greece’s battle with keeping his eyes open was going worse than Alfred’s was. South Africa was passing notes with Greenland. Hong Kong was texting under the table, as were Iceland and Liechtenstein. He was also pretty sure China had fallen asleep with his eyes open, again. He really needed to ask Yao how he did it.

            The sun outside was beginning to dip below the horizon. The meeting was ending at five. They had already been in the meeting room for nine hours, sans lunch break, and Alfred had enough.

            It was only Monday. There were still four more days of meetings to go.

            Finally the buzz cut off, Alfred jerking a bit out of his slumped posture. Colombia stepped down from the podium knowing fully well no one had been listening to him. He could have spoken about a cure for AIDs or a way to end world hunger that actually worked; no one would have paid attention.

            Well, maybe Germany and England might have, but even that was debatable with England seeming to have a staring contest with Norway while Germany pointed something out on Austria’s notes.

            France stood up after checking his watch expression brightening for the first time in an hour.

            “That concludes today’s meeting. Thank you all for coming and remember we start at the same time tomorrow in this room. If you could please return to the same seats as you sat in today, I would be grateful. If you would like to make changes please email me and I will respond as soon as I get home,” he paused as papers began to be shuffled and put back into folders and briefcases. “Please pick up any trash and push your chairs in when you leave, have a nice night. If you need any restaurant or bar recommendations, they are on a flier I put together in the entryway, you can grab one on your way out if you so wish to.”

            Chatter immediately filled the air, both nation speak and native languages. Personifications left the meeting room behind in droves with some of the fliers actually being picked up and taken with them.

            Alfred met Francis’ eyes. The older man nodded with a warm smile. Alfred smiled back before closing his own briefcase. He had already grabbed out two Advil swallowing them dry.

            He made his way out of the meeting room down into the parking garage. A few of the closer European nations had parked there, having taken their cars to the meeting, while others got taxis, took the metro, or walked to their hotels. When he found Francis’ car, right where it had been this morning when he put his luggage in the back, he got out his phone checking to see if he had any emails while waiting for the other.

            Ten minutes passed before the doors unlocked Francis walking up soon after. Alfred smiled at him again before getting into the passenger side of the car, Francis taking the driver’s seat. They put on their seatbelts, as per Alfred’s standards, before beginning to drive out and onto the streets towards Francis’ flat.

            They didn’t speak this time. Francis had reached over and given Alfred’s hand a gentle squeeze when they were in traffic, but otherwise it was silent. A good silent. A calm and trusting silent.

            They reached Francis’ flat relatively quickly. Alfred toed off his shoes setting his briefcase down near the door before carrying his suitcase into Francis’ bedroom. The four poster bed looked inviting, oh so inviting, but he unpacked instead. He placed his toiletries in the bathroom and hung his clothes up in the closet.

            He got undressed then redressed in sweats shuffling back out into the kitchen where Francis was present after checking for emails in his office. He stood over the stove heating up some type of soup. His sleeves were rolled up, tie absent, the top two buttons undone on his dress shirt. Alfred came up behind him, resting his head on the other’s shoulder.

            Fingers rubbed against his cheek in greeting. He could tell Francis was smiling, when he kissed Alfred’s temple his lips were upturned.

            “Not going to fall asleep on me?” Francis asked, teasing.

            “No, you are much more interesting than Columbia,” Alfred reassured. Francis laughed stirring the food once, then twice.

            “I am happy to hear that,” and he was. Alfred could hear his honesty, the happiness in his tone. His cheeks warmed, “Will you grab bowls for us?”

             Alfred hummed in affirmation, walking over to the cabinets to grab out two bowls and two spoons. The smell of mushrooms filled the air as Alfred set them on the counter. He watched Francis cook, watched him pour the mushroom bisque into the bowls evenly without spilling.

            They retired to the couch, Alfred quickly curling his legs underneath himself. Francis sat down next to him. Their thighs bumped together. Francis set his bowl on the coffee table as Alfred took a sip from his soup. He said nothing as Francis took the spoon from his hands, scooping out some of the warm liquid before holding it up to Alfred’s lips.

            This process repeated over and over again, murmurs of ‘open up’ and ‘good’ passing through Francis’ lips. By the end, Alfred’s cheeks were dusted with pink, his insides feeling warm and fuzzy. His stomach did a flip when Francis kissed his cheek, then his lips.

            He found himself with his head in Francis’ lap as the man ate his own dinner, pausing to card fingers through Alfred’s hair. Alfred yawned as time passed his limbs sluggish when Francis made him sit up, then stand up. They walked towards the bedroom lights being turned off as they went.

            The door closed with a click another yawn ripping from Alfred’s mouth. He let his sweatpants drop and pool on the floor before taking off his shirt soon afterwards. He dropped onto the top of the bed a groan of satisfaction muffled by the comforter.

            Francis joined him barely a minute later his clothes in the hamper and make up quickly washed off of his face. He grabbed Alfred’s glasses after he had rolled over to face Francis putting them on the nightstand.

            He pealed the covers back having Alfred move under them first. He spooned the American from behind placing gentle kisses on the back of his neck.

            “Not tonight?” Alfred asked shifting so his legs were tangled with the others.

            “You are too tired; tomorrow, I promise. Get some rest.”

            Alfred could only agree letting his eyes shut with a small smile.

            “Night Francis.”

            “Goodnight Alfred.”

* * *

 

            “I’ll see you after the meeting?”

            Francis nodded pressing a kiss to Alfred’s cheek, “Of course.”

            Alfred watched as Francis walked away towards the meeting room muttering under his breath about seating changes. America sighed before making his way towards the smell of coffee. He already had one cup after waking up that morning, but another couldn’t hurt when it came to these things.

            He found Kiku pouring himself a cup of tea.

            “Good morning Kiku,” he greeted reaching for a cup of his own. The man turned to look at him, eyes showing surprise.

            “Good morning Alfred, you seem wide awake this morning,” said politely with the dip of the head.

            “I turned in early last night,” he poured a cup. Japan handed him a sugar packet which he gladly took.

            “That is good. I was wondering if you would like to go out somewhere tonight. I got swept up by China and South Korea last night and was unable to extend an invitation.”

            “I actually already have plans, but we can go somewhere for lunch if you’d like,” he took a sip out of his cup. Japan nodded in agreement.

            “That sounds perfectly fine,” he smiled, the slight upturn of the lips. Alfred beamed back before they walked towards the meeting room together planning where they were going to go to eat.

           Once again the meeting dragged on long after they stopped talking. Lunch was quiet, quaint, made Alfred feel at ease. Halfway through the second half of the meeting he wanted to stab his ears out with pencil erasers.

            Francis was glancing his way every now and again, as were Arthur and Matthew. Finland was reaching the end of his speech. His leg kept bouncing. The projector kept buzzing. Pens kept scribbling. Noise after noise after noise.

            By the time it was finally over, he was ready to shove his face against Francis’ chest and block out the world. Maybe have some ice cream and a few kisses while he was at it. He left towards Francis’ car right away not wanting to talk with anyone.

            Arthur worked his way through the leaving crowd trying to get to Alfred’s chair only to find he was gone. He looked to Matthew the younger shaking his head as to say he didn’t know either.

            Francis took his leave after no one indicated they wanted to speak with him, going through his head what he had to set out while Alfred was getting ready. He had been on edge most of the day, most likely overwhelmed and agitated, having not done anything the night before.

            He had been too tired, Alfred had known that, and Francis could easily see it. He’d be extra giving tonight so Alfred could wind down, so they could both enjoy themselves. Matthew and Arthur were left behind.

            “Fuck, did anyone see where he went?” Arthur griped as they walked for the elevator. Matthew shrugged fixing his tie as he went.

            “I was going to ask Francis if Alfred requested any other restaurant recommendations but he was already gone too,” was his response.

            “He could be anywhere in Paris by now, again. I would say we could simply wait for tomorrow but we said that yesterday when we couldn’t find Alfred, or Francis for that manner.”

            Matthew hummed in response. Arthur pushed the down button a frown tight on his face.

            “This happened last world meeting too, as it did during the United Nations meeting, and even the G8 Summit,” he began to tap his foot, “Alfred’s president didn’t even say he knew where Alfred was that time, said he let him have free reign. It’s bullshit, you know the Secret Service follows him whenever he is in Russia, after that last time.”

            Once again Matthew hummed wanting to let Arthur blow off steam. The elevator dinged, doors opening moments afterwards. They stepped in, Arthur quickly pressing the ground floor button.

            “It’s downright fishy if you ask me.”

            The doors began to close only for a voice to stop them.

            “Please, if you could hold the elevator?”

            Matthew stuck his hand out in habit, the doors quickly stopping before opening once again. Japan gave them a grateful nod walking into the closed off space.

            “Thank you.”

            “It is not a problem, I thought I had saw you leave earlier,” Matthew began to make conversation. Kiku nodded, once again, choosing to elaborate after a few moments.

            “I was speaking with Ludwig and Feliciano; we were making plans to go to dinner.”

            “That sounds bloody lovely, if only we could do the same,” Arthur’s head tilted back as he closed his eyes in exasperation.

            “Pardon?” Kiku practically squeaked out, taken aback by the angry tone of voice.

            “It’s not you Kiku, we are trying to catch up with Alfred and possibly Francis so we can go out to dinner, but both of them seem to keep slipping away before we can ask,” Canada explained trying to calm the other down.

            “Oh, I see.”

            “Sorry if I scared you for a moment there, I am a bit put off by it,” an apology.

            “It is okay, although,” Kiku looked thoughtful. The elevator doors opened, “Alfred did say he had plans for tonight after I had asked him to diner this morning. He would most likely return to his hotel before going out so he could change and drop off his briefcase.”

            Matthew brightened up at that, “Of course, that’s a no brainer. Thank you Kiku.”

            “Of course, have a nice night,” he walked out of the elevator Arthur and Matthew following behind.

            “The question is which hotel is he staying at?” Arthur asked Matthew once they were alone again.

            “I know which one; he was gushing to me about it about a week ago, come on,” Matthew made a break for the road, hoping to road down a taxi. It would be more beneficial to take the metro, the taxis were too overpriced, but they wanted to move quicker.

            Or feel like they were.

            Even so, it led to a dead end.

            _“You are sure no one under the name Alfred Jones is staying here ma’am?”_ Matthew asked once again. Arthur stood off to the side foot tapping once again trying not to look angry at the situation he had no control over.

            “ _No, I am sorry, perhaps your brother gave you the wrong name?”_ she offered looking apologetic. He thanked her before stepping away walking back out towards the main foyer of the grand place.

            “Are you sure you have the name right Matthew?”

            “Yes, I am sure Arthur. This makes no damn sense,” Canada paused, finally frowning, “Unless he lied to me.”

           Arthur didn’t respond choosing instead to reach into his coat pocket to get his phone. He unlocked it before scrolling through his contacts to get to Alfred.

            “I’ll give him a call, maybe he’ll pick up,” he pressed the call button and lifted the phone to his ear. He waited as it rang, Matthew growing uneasy as the silence dragged on.

            It eventually went to voicemail, Alfred’s cheery prerecorded message sounding from the device. Arthur let out a curse before canceling the call shoving his phone back into his pocket.

            “Looks like we will have to wait until tomorrow,” but he stopped speaking watching as Matthew got his pone out.

            “It rang first, correct? His phone is still on?”

            Arthur nodded, “Yes, it is probably on silent, why do you ask?”

            “If it’s on I can find it, give me a second.”

            Arthur said nothing at first as the information sunk in. Once it did, he balked eyebrows rising towards his hairline, “Wait, you have a tracking device in your brother’s phone? Matthew, the CIA could be on your arse-”

            “You think they don’t know about it? Please, they know I’d only use it in emergencies,” he waved the other off as a map appeared; whatever he was doing seemed to be working.

            “While it is an inconvenience, it is not an emergency Matthew.”

            “Look, you said so yourself, it’s fishy. Every meeting Alfred attends he disappears right after the meeting lets out. We can’t get a hold of him, he lied to me about where he was, it’s weird and-” but Matthew stopped mouth open in an ‘o’ as a noise sounded from his phone.

            “What is it, did you find him?” it was asked with urgency Arthur trying to see onto the screen.

            “He’s at Francis’ flat.”

            Arthur blinked.

            “Where?”

            “Francis’ flat, he’s at France’s place.”

            The two said nothing the red dot on the map unmoving. There was no mistaking it.

            “I guess he got invited over for dinner,” Matthew finally broke the silence putting his phone back into his pocket.

            Arthur nodded before he began to walk back outside. Matthew followed quickly behind calling out for the other as he took quick strides in the direction of Francis’ home.

            “Arthur, England, this isn’t the best idea,” he tried to grab onto the others sleeve only for Arthur to walk faster.

            “It is only five blocks away and I want to make sure they are all right,” he stopped abruptly, causing Matthew to almost run into him, “Why would he put his phone on silent if he was only having dinner with France?”

            He began to walk again Matthew shaking his head so he could keep following. He tried to get the other to stop for the whole five blocks, up the old elevator that was far too slow for England’s liking, and all the way to Francis’ front door.

            Arthur got the spare key out of the pot in the hallway before walking inside. Matthew followed close behind feeling nervous when no one was in the living room. Or the kitchen.

            They both went quiet when noises came from down the hall towards Francis’ bedroom. His bed frame was creaking and a faint keening noise could be heard if they listened hard enough. Arthur held a finger up to his lips as they crept down the hall.

            There was a lurch and a creek of wood, a muffled scream. Arthur opened the door quickly only to stumble in complete shock, Matthew not too far behind.

            Alfred lay with his arms tied above his head with his legs tied to the two canopy sides raised off of the mattress a good foot. A blindfold, noise canceling earplugs, and a gag obscured his face, his bright red tear streaked drool covered face.

            His chest was heaving, his fists and toes clenched.

            Francis sat holding an object that was buzzing somewhere around Alfred’s thighs, his body obscured most of it but the man looked enraged for the two barging in. He moved to stand up and only then did it hit them what they walked in on.

            “Get out,” it was spoken with icy calmness Francis’ fists clenching at his sides. Alfred shifted a muffled whine sounding through the bedroom.

            “You-”

            “I said, get out. I,” he turned to look at Alfred eyes immediately softening, “I need to take him out of subspace, you cannot be in the room. Wait in the living room. There are leftovers in the fridge; I do not know how long this is going to take.”

            No one moved at first, other than Alfred who was shifting in distress. England nodded before backpedaling out of the bedroom taking Canada with him. Francis closed the door as the other two walked into the kitchen.

            He gently placed a hand on Alfred’s thigh. He finally stopped moving knowing he hadn’t been left without proper warning. Francis rubbed his thumb over the warm flushed skin watching as Alfred’s breathing got back under control.

            He shifted on the bed reaching down to cradle Alfred’s face in his hands. He rubbed his thumbs over the other’s lips glistening with spit before he reached behind his head unclipping the gag while trying not to catch any of the short hairs. Francis massaged Alfred’s jaw so it hopefully wouldn’t be as sore grabbing the bottle of water from the nightstand.

            He put the straw in Alfred’s mouth running a nail down the others neck slowly in rhythm, three seconds down, three lifted off and up, repeat. He placed it back down after Alfred stopped turning his head away. He tilted it once again turning Alfred’s face back to where it had been.

            The blindfold was taken off next blue eyes blinking blurrily against the dim lights of the room. He closed them quickly a groan slipping past now open lips. Alfred looked confused, lost, out of it. Francis kept running hands over his neck and shoulders, cheeks and temples, until his pupils had dilated properly.

            The earplugs came out last, one at a time. One was taken off and Francis would lightly snap his fingers together on that side before repeating it with the next.

            “Tell me if I am being too loud,” it was whispered, Alfred nodding while seeming to not process his words. “Alfred, look at me.”

            He didn’t. Francis frowned sitting up a bit further to untie Alfred’s hands. His fists were still clenched, more loosely and no longer white at the knuckles, but clenched none the less.

            Francis rubbed along the others knuckles and fingers to get them to uncurl. They did after a few moments, Alfred’s clicker dropping onto the bed with a dull thump after his right hand opened. Francis moved so he was next to the other, holding his upper body on his lap.

            “Alfred, I need you to focus,” said quietly still. He rested his hands on Alfred’s shoulders the younger relaxing into his touch.

            He rubbed his fingers firmly into the flesh. His shoulders were still tense from his arms being held up the way they had been. No slack. No bend at the elbow.

            “What’s wrong?” Alfred mumbled, his words slurred together, “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

            “No, not at all, you behaved very well,” he paused smiling when Alfred relaxed further. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. We had to stop for other reasons. None of them are your fault.”

            Alfred nodded cheeks warming. Francis patted his left shoulder.

            “Come now, you need to use words for me.”

            “Okay, sorry,” a deep breath, “I’m a bit out of it.”

            “Which is why you should be trying to focus on me,” said once he noticed Alfred was looking past his eyes, his face, not at them. Alfred blinked slowly eyes shifting to meet Francis’.

            “Sorry.”

            Alfred fell silent again. He took in deep breaths.

            “It is perfectly fine. I am going to untie your legs; that is why I am moving,” Francis spoke first before shifting so the other was resting on the bed once again. “Do your wrists hurt?”

            “No, they’re okay, all good.”

            Francis frowned at the speech pattern. He supported Alfred’s left ankle before untying the leather cuff from the wooden post. He brought the leg down slowly rubbing gentle circles on the reddened ring around the skin. He moved so the leg was not spread widely apart before repeating the process to the other leg.

            “Alfred, was it too much for you?”

            “No, no it wasn’t,” he cried to sit up arms shaking with effort as they supported his upper body weight to face Francis, “It was perfect, I’m not used to stopping- why’d we stop? Why’d you,” but he didn’t finish as he let himself fall back.

           Francis moved immediately so he was holding Alfred’s upper body against his chest. His legs tucked in so they wrapped around Francis’ knee towards Francis’ feet pressing his face against Francis’ neck. His breathing was once again uneven sniffles sounding as though he would burst into tears.

            “Alfred, you did not do anything wrong. You did absolutely nothing wrong, I am not angry with you or upset with you or disappointed in you, I had to stop because of things outside of our control,” he spoke slowly, softly.

            “But, but what made you-” a hiccup interrupted him.

            “Alfred, breathe with me please,” Francis took a deep breath feeling and listening as Alfred did the same. He exhaled, Alfred doing the same thing. He kept going, the sniffles slowed then stopped as the rise and fall of Alfred’s chest evened out.

            “Sorry,” Alfred pressed a kiss into his shoulder as another apology.

            “There is no need to apologize.”

            Alfred shook his head, his hair rubbing against Francis’ skin. “You didn’t get to do anything, ‘m sorry papa.”

            It was muffled, but Alfred kept breathing steadily. He was coming back, slower than normal due to the abruptness of their session, but coming back none the less.

            “That is all right Alfred, I should be the one apologizing, seeing as how we had to stop,” he pressed a kiss against the other’s temple.

            They went quiet after that Alfred not moving from his spot. Francis knew it would be beneficial to give Alfred a bath, a warm drink, and then put him to bed, but the two out in the kitchen, living room, wherever, would want to talk to them both. Arthur would know that too. Hopefully it would be brief.

            “Let’s get you in the bath, can you stand up? I will help you if you need it,” he gently had the other sit back. Both of their erections were easily gone by now. Alfred nodded shifting so he could place his feet on the floor.

           He tried to stand wobbling for a moment before he righted himself. He took one step, then another. He was steady. He shot a look over his shoulder at Francis the man moving so he was next to the taller. They walked into the attached bathroom Francis running a bath as quickly as possible.

            Alfred stood behind him nervously a hand rubbing at his eyes. The lights were brighter in here. Francis extended a hand to help Alfred into the porcelain bathtub. His legs wobbled as he put one leg in, then the other, but he didn’t slip instead settling down into the still rising water.

            Francis turned the water off once it reached a few inches above Alfred’s bellybutton sitting up. He kneeled down onto the tiled floor after taking off his shirt grabbing the plastic cup off of the floor. It had been placed there this morning Francis knowing they would need it later in the day.

            He dipped it under filling it with the steaming water before pouring it over Alfred’s head getting his hair wet. He repeated this a few times watching as Alfred’s shoulders finally completely relaxed his head slumping back so his nose pointed towards the ceiling a calm smile lighting up his face.

            “Do you want the coconut scent or the one we used last time?” Francis asked finally breaking the second descended silence.

            “The one with the mango stuff in it,” Alfred shifted to look at Francis, “It made my hair really soft.”

            He smiled at Alfred, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek, then another. Alfred’s smile widened at them. His cheeks and ears flared up in color once again. Francis shuffled over on his knees to the holder he had against the side of his bathtub grabbing out the shampoo bottle with the yellow top.

            Alfred let his head tip back again as Francis lathered up his hands before rubbing the shampoo into Alfred’s hair. Once thick white suds and the faint smell of mango filled the air he began running his nails bluntly over Alfred’s scalp. Alfred let out a sigh at it eyes closing in bliss.

            He also heard a foot scuffling in his flat somewhere, most likely the living room. Alfred didn’t.

            He rinsed out Alfred’s hair filling and dumping water over his head ten times to get all of the shampoo out. He stood up placing a hand on Alfred’s shoulder when he tried to sit up.

            “Will you be okay to soak? I can grab you a change of the clothes and get changed myself, make you some hot chocolate,” he let his voice go quiet then stop at Alfred’s nod.

            “Yeah, I’m okay,” he sunk further into the water after that, his toes poking above the surface down by his feet, “You can do what you’ve gotta do.”

            Francis leaned down, pressing a kiss to Alfred’s forehead before he moved back out to his bedroom. He grabbed Alfred a pair of boxers and one of the loose fitting shirts he had brought walking back into the bathroom to place them on the toilet lid. Alfred had his eyes closed his head hanging over the side of the tub in relaxation.

            He got changed ditching his dress pants for a pair of sweat pants, probably Alfred’s, rolled twice at the ankles. A robe went on top of that loosely tied around his waist. He turned to face his bed. He had left out the restraints and toys he had used, and had planned on using, on Alfred.

            He walked over grabbing them all up and putting them away in their proper locations. He changed the bed sheets throwing the soiled ones in his hamper.

            Francis walked out towards the kitchen to see Arthur sitting on the edge of one of his loveseats elbows on his knees with his hands balled into fists over his mouth. Matthew sat in the armchair adjacent not looking much better. His eyebrows were furrowed together his fingers dancing nervously on his knees.

            Francis said nothing to them veering off into the kitchen as Arthur quickly stood up to follow him, which he did. Francis reached for the instant mix in one of his cabinets listening as Arthur came into the room. He was grabbed by the shoulder, spun around, and slapped across the face. Hard.

            He held onto the metal tin with a death grip fearing the noise would drag Alfred out of the bathroom before he could tell the other they had guests. Arthur was the one who looked enraged now, but he didn’t yell. His knuckles were white, his hands clenched into fists.

            “What the hell do you think you are doing?” it was whispered harshly.

            “I am trying to make hot chocolate for Alfred,” he moved past Arthur to his fridge grabbing out milk then a large mug.

            “You know that is not what I mean.”

            “I suppose not, but I will not stand here and listen to you accuse me of things we both very well know are not true. We will all speak once Alfred is finished with his bath,” he poured the milk into the mug placing it into the microwave.

            Arthur said nothing as it turned on, the mug spinning slowly as the milk heated.

            “Do I make myself clear?”

            “Crystal,” and with that, Arthur went back into the living room his whole stance tense with unreleased anger.

            Francis said nothing else grabbing the mug out of the microwave before it could beep. He usually preferred to warm it on the stovetop for these types of things, but he needed quick not perfect. The chocolate powder was quickly stirred in.

            Francis walked back towards his room. Arthur was pacing. He closed the bedroom’s door walking back into the bathroom to find Alfred in the same position he had left him. Blue eyes opened when Francis’ shadow fell over his face. A smile lit up Alfred’s face at the sight of hot chocolate. He sat up water running down over his shoulders and chest as he reached out for the mug.

            “Thanks, it smells great.”

            Francis watched as he took a long sip. His words were crisp, mind clear.

            “It is not a problem, but, we do have one,” he spoke plainly. No reason to lie.

            “The reason we had to stop, I’m guessing?”

            Francis nodded. Alfred frowned putting one of his arms on the edge of the bathtub.

            “Well?” Alfred prompted, taking another sip as an afterthought.

            Francis took in a deep breath, “England and Canada are here.”

            Alfred froze in shock, fear displayed clear as day as he stared at Francis in disbelief.

            “I did not hear them come in and they walked in on us, that is why I stopped without warning then made us end the session completely,” he watched as Alfred’s face paled. His fingers tightened on the mug until it shattered hot chocolate and porcelain dropping into the bathwater with no preamble.  

            Alfred stood up making to get out of the bath immediately. He wobbled again Francis rushing forwards to support him. He handed Alfred a towel once he was on his own two feet. He barely dried off before putting on the clothes Francis had put on the toilet lid earlier.

            The bath was drained, the mug pieces left behind to clean up at a later time.

            “They’re still here?” Alfred asked while quickly putting on deodorant. Francis nodded. Alfred groaned. “Have they asked about us?”

            “Not really. I do not believe they think we are anything more than sexual partners though,” he moved so he was next to Alfred placing a hand softly on his shoulder, “We’ll get through this and move on.”

            Alfred let out a sigh clearly distressed and angry after all that had happened, “It isn’t fair, we couldn’t have this one thing only in between us, and it was going so well,” but he stopped gripping at the sink’s edge. Not as hard as the mug, but hard enough.

            Francis remained silent even as Alfred turned to him remorse clear as day on his face.

            “And we have to lie to them, to everyone, again. They’ll be suspicious as hell and won’t want me having sex with you.”

            Francis’ breath caught in his throat. He moved to hug the other, Alfred holding him twice as tightly. They stayed that way for a time, the minutes dragging on with Alfred trying not to let his emotions get the best of him again.

            “Do you want to tell them?” Francis finally asked, “Do you want to tell them everything?”

            “I do, it’s only Arthur and Mattie, and they wouldn’t do anything about it, not now, right?”

            Alfred knew the question was pointless, knew it had no answer, before Francis fell completely silent. Neither of them knew how it would be taken by the two outside of the bathroom, by anyone, if they found out.

            They didn’t know if there would be consequences to the actions already taken long ago and to this day.

            “Alfred, you know I cannot answer that,” he looked pained while speaking reaching up to cradle Alfred’s cheeks. “You know it would be more of a backlash to you than anyone else, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

            Alfred’s hands easily rested on Francis’ shoulders. Francis always told him the same thing, since 1991, since 1944, since 1918; since 1886 when the torch lit up on the Statue of Liberty, when they embraced and kissed for what felt like hours inside her crown.

            Nation personifications were not supposed to show political or economic favoritism by means of human like relations past the occasional bout of one night stands and other means of casual sex.

            Alfred and Francis were not supposed to be in a relationship because the United States and France were separate independent nations.

            “Fuck it,” he finally hissed out, startling Francis, “Fuck it Francis, I don’t care if I am ‘showing political favoritism’ or whatever the fuck else anyone will say. I love you and the fact I have to hide it and am forced to make it seem like I am okay and even interested in being with others for any damn reason makes me feel terrible and like a cheater.”

             Francis opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came.

            “It’s the 21st century, if anyone ends up being caught up on the fact that Alfred Jones can be madly in love with Francis Bonnefoy while their nations are not united than I will explain it to them and help them understand,” he grabbed Francis’ hands off of his face, kissing the knuckles. “I’m done hiding, I don’t care if anyone has anything to say about it because I love you Francis.”

            “And I love you too Alfred, you are very dear to me. If you believe it is time to say it loud and proud then we can,” he spoke sincerely, smiling with adoration as Alfred hugged him close once again.

            After a few seconds they pulled away from each other knowing the other two were still waiting. Francis walked out first Alfred following close behind turning off the bathroom lights as they went. The short walk down the hallway did nothing to help Alfred’s nerves, but it was now or never.

            Both Canada and England looked up as the other two entered the room going straight for the couch. France sat down with little fanfare, America falling back right next to him. Their thighs touched if they moved only slightly. The others took notice.

            “I would normally ask what the fuck Alfred was thinking, but it is very clear with this matter that it is mostly France’s fault and idea, so; what the fuck were you thinking France?” Arthur spoke right away eyes narrowing.

            France said nothing as America leaned forward anger clear as day in his posture.

            “Actually, it originally was my idea. Francis tried to talk me out of it for two weeks before we agreed to sit down and talk about it, coming to an agreement on mutual, safe, and trusting terms,”  he was glaring the other down, daring him to say anything else.

            “And I suppose you came to an agreement a few days ago before the meeting week started?” he asked looking too smug for the conversation.

            “1983 actually, you’re a few years off.”

            The room went completely silent after that. England’s face took on a look of complete shock, Canada not far behind.

          “You’ve been having sex and doing other things with France for almost thirty years?” Matthew finally spoke, voice higher than usual.

            “No, we’ve been doing the whole bondage thing since then; we’ve been having sex since 1886 when the Statue of Liberty was first opened. We went for about three rounds in her crown before going back to my place and doing two more,” his voice was flat.

            France tried not to laugh as England appeared to be spluttering.

            “If it makes you feel any better, we’ve only really been exclusive since the fall of the USSR.”

            That is what made Arthur’s actions finally return to normal. Matthew was the one to still this time eyes widening a fraction. It was laid out in the open. Francis shifted to interlock one of his hands with Alfred’s their fingers intertwining.

            “Exclusive? No, no, that’s a joke, right?” Canada asked looking between the two then to Arthur, “They’re joking right?”

            “Clearly, I know Alfred has had sexual relations over treaties and such since then, including with myself,” Arthur responded watching as Francis shook his head.

            “Yes. Only for treaties and the like. Both of us have tried to get out of them as often as possible and we do not have sex with anyone on a whim anymore; why do you think our bosses say we are too busy with work and such if we skip out on such things? Why do you think we have tried to normalize nonsexual agreements?” Francis spoke next watching as realization dawned on their two uninvited guests.

            “Yeah, my presidents have been helping me out since the Clintons were in office,” Alfred continued on when no one made a move to speak, “They don’t see anything wrong with me wanting to stick to one partner. It’s what they see as normal in some aspects. The Obama’s love Francis.”

            Matthew and Arthur said nothing for a time. Alfred tried not to look nervous his leg threatening to bounce up and down. Francis placed a hand on his knee, and for that, Alfred was grateful.

            They had gone from being found in the middle of a BDSM scene to confessing their secret relationship of over one hundred years; it had been quite the night.

            “So, knowing fully well that this defies many of the rules that we nations have in place, and that both of you could easily get in trouble with the rest of the representatives, you continued on with this for years. Not only that; instead of lying to me and Canada by saying you both were simply blowing off steam through sex, you chose to tell us when you were not even caught doing something that could necessarily be romantic?” Arthur finally got out, disbelief evident in his tone.

            “When you put it like that, it sounds idiotic, but yes. Pretty much,” Alfred moved to intertwine his hand with Francis’. His fingers were squeezed gently, reassuringly.

            “Oh my god, Alfred, you’re young, but you know this can’t continue. France, Francis, why would you?” but he stopped looking between the two of them, before making a noise in the back of his throat.

            “You are making it seem as though we are the only ones to do this, who have ever done this,” Francis leaned forwards with a sigh. “There are multiple nations who are in relationships, who have been in them, and who will be in one. Stop making it seem as if it is the end of the world.”

            “Plus, no one else needs to know. We told you two because we didn’t want to lie and we thought you wouldn’t tell. You’re family, we’re family,” Alfred shrugged as he paused. “I don’t know what else to tell you. You can accept it and move on, or you can’t and you can leave, doesn’t matter what you do because we aren’t going to leave each other because you disapprove.”

            “Even if we do approve or accept it that does not mean everyone will-”

            “Let me make this crystal clear,” France interrupted England before he could continue. “I do not care if you do not approve, we told you both knowing you may not, and that is okay. But if you think for a second that I will allow either one of you to tell anyone else, you are surely mistaken.”

            His tone was flat, eyes narrowed. Canada shifted uneasily.

            “You can choose to leave and not accept this. That is fine. But if anyone else suddenly knows and asks me or Alfred about it, condemns Alfred for it, I will find you and you will be sorry. Am I understood?”

            England said nothing. Canada echoed the silence.

            “Am I understood, Arthur, Matthew,” he looked both of them dead in the eyes, lips down turning.

            “Yes, you’re understood,” Canada spoke first. “You may do what you like, please be careful though. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

            England still said nothing. His hands were gripped together tightly in front of his mouth, his elbows on his knees.

            “Fine,” he finally agreed. “But, I still do not approve of the BDSM part of your relationship. I do not believe that Alfred should be that reliant or invested in something where he gives control over to you. You are almost four times his age and I do not feel comfortable with that.”

            “It doesn’t matter if you’re comfortable with it or not, you’re not that one having sex Arthur,” Alfred immediately got defensive hands tightening into fists.

            “No, I am not, but I saw you spread out-”

            “You never should have anyways-”

            “Enough,” Francis interrupted them, Matthew shifting so he could spring up if a fight started.

            Arthur and Alfred fell silent, their anger clearly rising. Francis placed a hand on Alfred’s shoulder as he stood up from the couch.

            “Francis?” Matthew finally broke his silence.

            “If you continue to fight like that we will never get anywhere,” he looked back and forth between the three others in the room. “I understand if Matthew and Arthur have their concerns, and I also understand it is truthfully none of their business. They believe it to be however-” a deep breath- “If you wish to be reassured that it is all perfectly fine, you may sit in on a session.”

            Alfred faltered where he sat, standing up on stiff legs.

            “France, a word,” and with that he dragged him back out into the hall and into his study closing the door and locking it before the others could follow.

            Francis said nothing as Alfred tried to find words. He could hear the others beginning to talk outside, not even bothering to whisper.

            “What the fuck?”

            He turned his attention back towards Alfred.

            “Hmm?”

            “Don’t hum at me; you know exactly what I am asking. Have them sit in on a session? Why would I want my literal brother and my pseudo father figure watching us during a scene?” he ran his hands through his hair once he had finished speaking, looking distraught and put off.

            “It was a middle ground that they might not even agree to, look, I do not want Arthur getting involved or trying to get in between us every time we have a meeting or conference when we are all present. I want us to be able to do what we want and if that means him no longer worrying about it, then so be it,” he walked closer, placing a comforting hand on the other’s cheek, his words growing soft. “I am sorry I did not ask you first, I should have. I will not suggest something like this again without your express permission.”

            Alfred’s eyes softened at the apology. He let out a quiet huff of air, wrapping his arms around the others waist to tug him closer, “I know you didn’t mean anything malicious by it, I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with something like that is all.”

            Francis smiled at the mumbled words, using this thumbs to rub at Alfred’s cheeks, “You seemed to enjoy when we had some fun in that fitting room a few years ago.”

            Alfred let out an awkward sort of laugh, cheeks turning a light pink which slowly moved to his ears, “That was different.”

            “I know, but thinking of it that way might help. Or if you do not think about it at all; you will be wearing your blindfold and noise cancellers for the most part, so if you don’t focus on them you won’t even know they are in the room with us.”

            Alfred nodded at the words, biting his bottom lip with a tinge of worry, “It’s just, I don’t ever act like I do when we are in scene, and I only trust you seeing me like that Francis.”

            “And if they try anything, I will stop them in their tracks.”

            “Might wanna pick up your carpet when they come over next, blood is hard to get out of white carpets.”

            Francis laughed, going up on his toes to give Alfred a kiss, “Speaking from experience?”

            Alfred leaned down to give him another before answering, “Absolutely.”

            They remained that way, close together and happy, until the talking back in the living room pattered off. Francis gave Alfred one more kiss before moving towards the door again. They walked back into the living room to find the other two standing shoulder to shoulder still whispering.

            They stopped when Francis cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow in question. Canada ringed his hands together, looking to England before he chose to answer, “We will sit in on one of your sessions, granted you are both okay with it.”

           “We’re fine with it,” Alfred was the one who answered looking pointedly at England, “Tell us when it’s most convenient for you.”

            Arthur’s jaw tightened at Alfred’s look, not rising to the bait when he answered, “I think Friday would be best, the meetings end on Friday so Matthew and I do not have to worry about getting up early after having to go back to our hotels after you two are finished.”

            They all agreed to the date before Canada and England left, finally leaving Francis and Alfred alone. Alfred sat back down on the couch with a shaky breath, running his hands down his face.

            “I guess we have some planning to do, huh?” he looked up at Francis through his fingers.

            The man nodded, reaching down to card his fingers through Alfred’s hair, “We do. And we also need to discuss what you are comfortable with while they are watching.”

            “Toy chest?”

            Francis smiled, tapping Alfred’s nose with his pointer finger, “Toy chest.”

* * *

 

            Friday came too soon yet not soon enough all at once. Alfred knew exactly how it was going to work, what was going to happen and what was going to be used, but he still felt unease pool in his gut as Francis finally called the end of the meeting, wishing everyone safe trips home.

            He stood up without thinking about where he was going, making his way through some of the others with smiles and waves of goodbye. He stood in the elevator with Finland and Norway, who were having a heated discussion of what sounded like metal bands before they got off a floor above where he was.

            He stood by Francis’ car not bothering to take out his phone this time. His hands were clammy. His foot wanted to tap. He didn’t know how the night was going to go, and if how he was feeling was any indication then it would not be good at all.

            He jumped when the car unlocked. Francis looked at him in question but he only shook his head in response, sliding into the passenger seat quickly as possible. Soon enough, they were driving through Paris and the traffic that came with it.

            “If you do not want to do this, we can always call it off. You are under no obligation to go through with this Alfred,” Francis spoke quietly, lightly. Alfred often thought of him as too kind before remembering he could be so much more.

            “I know, but I am okay with it, I really am,” he shifted so his legs could curl up on the seat. “I guess I am having a few last minute doubts.”

            Francis hummed, a playful smile making its way to his face for reasons Alfred couldn’t think of, “That is perfectly reasonable, as long as you are sure you want to go through with this then all will be fine.”

            They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride over. Matthew and Arthur were going to be arriving shortly after changing at their hotels. They would show up for the session and leave while Alfred was being brought down from his high during aftercare.

            It would be like they weren’t even there in the first place.

            Francis already had all of the toys they would be using picked out and placed in the top shelf of his nightstand. The bases to the restraints were already on the posts. They would be using rope and leather cuffs with Alfred’s legs raised only half as high as the time they had been caught.

            They would be doing more of multiple sensation play than anything else and their recently newly explored daddy kink would be left out, Alfred feeling highly uncomfortable calling Francis ‘papa’ with anyone around. Alfred had picked out his favorite crop; one that left stinging welts of used correctly, which it always was. Francis had said he had only one surprise that would benefit them both, and that was that.

            It would be eventful, as it was every time.

            Francis wrapped an arm around Alfred’s waist as they walked to the elevator, then to his flat. He unlocked the door motioning Alfred towards the bedroom while he walked into the kitchen after taking off his shoes.

            He took off his shirt as he was walking down the hallway, throwing it into the hamper in the corner of Francis’ bed room, followed by his socks and pants. His undershirt and underwear stayed on as he went into the bathroom to wash his face before setting out the mixture for bubble bath and the large plastic cup Francis would use to wash his hair with.

            The doorbell rang out. He was out of time.

            He walked back into the bedroom after closing the bathroom door. Alfred sat on the edge of the bed in wait, taking off his undershirt before the other three could come into the room. He could hear them speaking in the living room, words there but unable to be made out.

            A knock sounded on the closed door. Alfred took in a deep breath. It was now or never.

            “You can come in,” he called out, pushing back off of the floor so he was in the middle of the bed.

            The door opened to Francis coming in first. His lips were downturned in annoyance. Matthew followed him, his fingers playing with the edges of his shirt, and then followed by Arthur, who was looking directly at Alfred. America’s eyes moved downwards, staring at the high thread count sheets as if they were the most interesting thing in the room.

            He looked up when Francis’ hand was placed on his knee. He smiled at the other the look not quite reaching his eyes.

            “Arthur wants to hear what is going to happen from your side, and then we may continue,” he explained, chin jutting out in the other’s direction.

            Alfred looked over to see them sitting down on the chairs Francis had left in the room before they left that morning. It was then his turn to frown hands clenching at his sides.

            “I thought you explained it to him,” Alfred half said half questioned. Which was the truth.

            The night after the two had been discovered Arthur and Francis had a conversation about what would be going on Friday night. Alfred had been dragged away by Matthew and thus had not heard all of it, but from what he could tell Francis had told the other about their system and how they had gotten as far as they had over the years.

            “I did, all the way through aftercare, but he would like to hear it from you. He wants to make sure our stories and feelings match up,” France sat down next to him. The bed dipped.

            “That wasn’t a part of the deal-”

            “Alfred, please,” it was Arthur who interrupted him. “I know you can make your own decisions but I have seen what France can do, what he has done. I want to make sure you are safe with him in this-” he grimaced- “relationship.”

            Alfred stared him down for a few moments, only stopping when Canada shifted and spoke.

            “We care a lot about you Alfred, as you said, we’re family. We want to know you are happy and okay,” it was said sincerely, words powerful in of themselves. Alfred could only let himself practically deflate.

            “We, we started our relationship after the statue was finished being built, as I am sure both of us have already told you,” he began, hands shifting into his lap. “It wasn’t serious at first. We both knew what we might be feeling would be wrong, to our fellow nations and to our people.”

            He stopped speaking not knowing how to continue. He was caught up in memories, caught up in how Francis’ lips had felt against his that night and how he had awoken the next morning to still feel the happiness, still feel the glow, spreading through his veins.

            “I had always had a sort of crush on him, ever since he had helped me fight against you. It’s stupid and cliché but, wow, Francis was always kind to me around that time and acted like a light when I needed it,” he steeled himself, shaking his head to rid himself of too far away thoughts. “We weren’t exclusive or anything like that. We really didn’t acknowledge it, whatever it was, until after both world wars. I stayed in Paris after the first one for a while, and we had a lot of sex and junk then, but after the second one is when a lot of stuff fell into place.”

            Francis took one of his hands into his, memories bittersweet clear in everyone’s minds.

            “I was on the world stage. My people, my government, set me up for it as the war came to a close. We made the atomic bomb and we were the saviors of Europe and Asia and the world, I guess. All of a sudden I was looked to, by everyone, for reconstruction and advice and protection. I was the only one capable of taking down the Soviets, everyone told me that. Me! The country that hadn’t wanted to get involved in world affairs and when he finally did, it was for war after war after war.”

            No one moved.

            “It was hard, it was really, really hard but I wasn’t allowed to show weakness. I wasn’t allowed to seem vulnerable. I had to be the world’s protector, the world’s savior, the world’s punching bag. I had to, I had to. And, when it came down to it, I was all alone. The only one capable of being even close to me was Russia at the time, and he was my goddamn enemy. But,” he paused, finally taking in a breath. “But right at the beginning of that the, uhh, how you would say, sexualization in my country increased. Francis was the only long term partner I really had so I went to him for a lot of it as I was discovering new things.”

            He shifted, bashfulness starting to show.

            “In the late seventies, I came across on of Ludwig’s magazines. I had come over to visit him on a diplomatic thing and he went out for his morning run leaving me to sleep in. I found one by accident when I knocked my glasses off of the nightstand; it had been shoved under the bed in a box that had a bunch of them in it actually. I read it, looked at it, and put it back before Ludwig noticed and, well, asked Francis about it when I went back through France on my way home to the states. He told me about BDSM, all that good stuff, and I asked him how people could enjoy something like that, ‘cause pain didn’t seem appealing to me. He tried to explain it but I really didn’t get it you know. I left not understanding more than I did when I arrived.”

            He kept shifting, pausing when Francis’ hand landed on his knee.

            “I looked into it a bit myself when I got home and, came to my own realizations. Many people did it because they liked that loss on control, the fact their well being was in the hands of another person they trusted and even loved,” a sharp exhale punctuated his words. “I became transfixed on that. Often that was my job, helping others, but there was a way where it could be the exact opposite? It got me hard, and not in the literal sense, that was a terrible choice of words, but I wanted to try it. Badly. It took me two weeks of basically begging Francis for him to even consider it. We started small and worked our way through different kinks until we are where we are today. We generally use a clicking system because I am often gagged and aftercare is generally a bath, warm drink, and maybe a movie or something similar before sleep. Francis takes good care of me and despite the fact he is the quote on quote dom in this relationship, he has my safety and well being on the front of his mind at all times. There is a difference between having fun and going too far.”

            He finished off lamely, practically curling into himself.

            “Besides, I top when we aren’t in scene. Can we please start now?”

            Francis didn’t answer right away, looking over to England as if to ask ‘is that satisfactory?’

            “You love him,” was all Arthur could get out. He sat back in his chair, eyes closing for a few seconds, minutes, a lifetime. “I have no objections, you may continue.”

            Francis looked relived. He pressed a kiss to Alfred’s cheek before he had the other move so he was lying down with his head towards the headboard. He tapped the others hips right above the waistband of his boxers. Alfred arched up so Francis could drag the fabric off and down until it passed over his feet and fell onto the floor to be forgotten until later.

            Alfred’s ears and cheeks were bright red at the situation, knowing the other two could see him naked, but he tried not to think about it. He focused on Francis. Francis.

            France smiled down at the other, placing the clicker in Alfred’s right hand.

            “Test it for me please,” it was more of a statement then a question. Alfred clicked it twice, the satisfying noise of _‘yes’_ or _‘continue’_ filling the air.

            Francis let out a hum as he moved off to the side. He grabbed out what they would be using, keeping it out of everyone’s line of sight as to make it more interesting. Alfred looked up when Francis gently gripped his wrist, sliding the leather cuff around it, securing it with a finger’s width between the dark hide and Alfred’s skin. He repeated the process for the other wrist and both of Alfred’s ankles, lifting them up so his legs were stretched taunt.

            He waited for the gag to go in only to have confusion light up his face when Francis placed a hand on his upper thigh, the thumb rubbing slow circles into the skin. He had a slapper in his other hand, the older one that had gotten soft.

            “Alfred, have you been good?” he asked, voice questioning.

            He didn’t know if he was supposed to use the clicker in response or not. He squirmed.

            “You may use your words, _petit_.”

            He licked his lips, uncertainty tainting his tone, “I think so. I have been trying my best.”

            The slapper tapped lightly against his thigh. Francis’ eyebrows rose up on his forehead as if to say ‘oh?’ Alfred shifted again completely forgetting it wasn’t only him and Francis in that moment.

            “Tell me, what are some of the rules I have?”

            “In general?” Francis nodded his head so he could continue, “Well, you want guests to take their shoes off before they come inside. You don’t want the lights to be left on in a room if no one is in said room. You want guests to put their dishes in the kitchen and not leave them out randomly.”

            He could have kept going, but he stopped when Francis held up a hand. “Yes, that is right, very good.”

            The comment went right to Alfred’s heart, the praise making joy slip through his brain.

            “And what of rules concerning my car?”

            Alfred blinked. Then he realized. That’s why Francis had been smiling.

            “You can’t eat food in the car unless it can be easily cleaned if dropped and you can only take sips of your drink when the car is not moving to prevent spilling,” he responded, averting his eyes to look at Francis’ forehead instead of the blues of his eyes.

            “And?”

            He didn’t respond.

            “What else Alfred, I know you know.”

            He swallowed. He mumbled out the answer his cheeks coloring an even darker red the urge to rub at his neck itching at his fingers. They strained for a moment before his arm relaxed.

            “Use your big boy voice Alfred.”

            “’m not allowed to put my feet up on the seats unless my shoes are taken off.”

            Francis smiled, “That’s right. And do you know what you did on the way back here today?”

            He said nothing, not at first. Francis waited for a response. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye but he chose to ignore it.

            “I put my feet up on the seat.”

            “You did,” Francis trailed the edge of the soft instrument down Alfred’s upper thigh until it reached his knee before bringing it back up again. “Even though you know the rule, a very simple rule, you still defied it.”

            “I’m sorry,” and he was. There was no reason for him to have done it, not when he remembered not to most of the time. Most.

            “I know you are, but you still need to be punished. You understand why I am punishing you?” it was asked softly.

            “I disobeyed a rule that you put in place. You are going to ensure it doesn’t happen again,” he responded. He could practically feel the sting, the burn, of what Francis was going to do.

            “That is right. Once I am finished, the slate will be clean and we may begin, understand?”

            Alfred nodded, mouth feeling heavy.

            “Good. You will get five swats on each thigh, you do not have to count them,” almost the second he finished speaking the slapper came down on his left thigh, leaving a red mark and a sharp sting that made Alfred tense and arch in place.

            The second Alfred’s muscles began to relax again two more were slapped onto his right thigh, one on the outside and one more towards the inside close to his cock that was already starting to harden. He let out a gasp as another was slapped down onto his left again.

            He had not gotten a punishment in a while. Not while in full scene. Never with others watching.

            That thought sent pleasure all the way to his toes almost drowning out the rest of his punishment. The others were watching him. They were watching him. Watching. If he blushed anymore he was sure he’d go light headed from everywhere else his blood had to go.

            The last two slaps were harsher than the previous eight. His legs were shaking, trembling, his thighs littered with red marks. Francis pressed a soft hand onto the skin, rubbing it down as to alleviate some of the left over sting. The marks felt hot, buzzing, flourishing against tanned skin.

            “Good boy, taking your punishment so well,” kisses were pressed against his inner thighs, Francis’ beard scraping purposefully against one of the marks close to where his leg creased, flowed, into his crotch.

            Francis completely ignored Alfred’s now fully hard member, peppering kiss after kiss to his thighs. He held Alfred’s legs in place as he started to leave hickeys along the skin, Alfred straining against his hold, straining against his restraints in slowly mounting want. Pleasure pooled in his gut a moan breaking through the air.

            He had never gotten his hot and bothered before, not this quickly that is. His eyes glanced over to the two sitting down only feet away. They were silent. Matthew’s cheeks were pink. Arthur had crossed his legs. He met the man’s eyes glancing down before he would make an idiot of himself.

            Francis finally sat up seeming satisfied of the marks he left behind. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing something up before his face was up near Alfred’s once again. Lips mouthed the shell of his ear, a small nip causing him to jump.

            “Open up, be a good boy for me,” he whispered so only Alfred could hear him, a finger tapping against Alfred’s slightly parted lips. They were already wet with spit, not bruised but looking easily as well.

            Francis kissed him before anything else, lips moving smoothly and slowly against Alfred’s, dragging out a groan when he caught Alfred’s lower lip with his teeth pinching a nipple and rolling it with a forgotten free hand. When Francis pulled back, Alfred’s lips were redder his eyes lashes fluttering as he practically shuddered in need.

            Alfred did keep his mouth open, eyes growing dark as Francis pressed the gag in before securing it behind the other’s head. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Alfred’s mouth as his hands trailed over his neck to his ears brushing against them with a feathery touch.

            Then he couldn’t hear anything.

            Blessed silence.

            Francis sat up a bit more, once again smiling down at Alfred as his thumbs trailed across his cheek bones down to his parted lips, tapping against the ball of the ball gag with his fingernail as if to ask if this was all right so far.

_‘Click, click.’_

            With ease, Francis dropped back down, mouth attacking Alfred’s neck. He always left as many marks as possible. Bruises, bites, red harshness. It never lasted to the morning.

            Alfred moaned around the gag as nails left lines of red down his torso, stopping above his bellybutton to dig into the small layer of fat he could never quite get rid of. His back arched the most it had all night, what could only be a squeal coming out muffled and garbled as his eyes scrunched closed. They trailed back up to his nipples, circling them slowly as they pebbled.

            Francis bit his neck as he finally pinched them, Alfred’s arms trying to jerk down in response. He stopped himself as to not break the bedposts off. His fists clenched breathing going ragged.

            France knew exactly how to play him, exactly how to get his blood pumping and heart thumping, exactly how to make him practically beg with his eyes and body the way his words couldn’t. Precum ran down his neglected length.

            Francis was already in between his legs, the rest of his toys were on the bed next to Alfred. Somewhere in between making Alfred’s neck a giant hickey and his hands resting above where Alfred’s happy trail would be if he didn’t wax, had moved to where he normally sat.

            Alfred was already losing track of time, already falling into his warm happy mindset of being worshiped and praised and taken care of. He loved it, absolutely loved it. Even as Francis’ nails sent tickling sensations from his stomach to his brain, making Alfred grin with no way to stop it.

            Warm hands finally stopped around his base, thumbs rubbing over his balls teasingly lightly. He let out a pitiful whine hips thrusting up in want. The hands disappeared, returning with lube before Alfred could make another noise. He let out a sigh then a louder than normal moan as fingers played with his head and slit rubbing precum along the reddened skin with practiced ease.

            Alfred trusted up over and over again, pleasure dancing under his closed eyelids. He was close, close already. His eyes snapped open as something was tied tightly at the base of his cock. Francis’ surprise. Alfred let out a noise of protest only for it to be drowned out in favor of another moan. Francis’ hand pumped up and down with the aid of the finally warming lube driving Alfred to orgasm as another lubed finger slipped down in between his cheeks.

            He came, white splattering his stomach. He stayed erect, his sensitivity heightening with cock straining against whatever Francis had used to tie it up. A hand messaged his balls as one finger pressed inside his ass. It slid in and out only to the first knuckle at first, the intrusion only slightly unpleasant compared to what was to come.

            Francis began to pepper more kisses on his stomach, on his sides, on his hips, and on his thighs as one finger loosened him, then two, and three. It all felt so good, so, so good. Alfred felt light headed eyes glancing over to the almost forgotten guests. They looked uncomfortable, not in the painful way but in the shameful way.

                        All thoughts of Matthew and Arthur were blown out of his head as Francis took him into his mouth down to the hilt. There was nowhere for him to move upwards, he had already been arched up into Francis’ touches, so he went down causing Francis’ fingers to go deeper into him finally brushing at his prostate.

            He came again, eyes rolling back as he felt Francis hum and swallow, milking him dry.

            Francis’ lips were moving against his skin, speaking, and then licking at the sweat there. His fingers were pulled out leaving Alfred feeling empty. Precum dribbled onto the bed sheets, he was bright red and hard, so hard. It wouldn’t go away.

            Something pressed against his entrance, it was cool, smooth. Plastic. It went in easily resting against his prostate after a couple of nudges which sent Alfred keening into his gag, his legs tightening against their bonds, straining.

            If he wanted to he could break out of them, take off what Francis had put on him, and finally get relief. But he trusted Francis, he trusted him.

            The egg vibrator was turned on one of its lowest settings, the faint vibrations and buzz that Alfred could not hear made his limbs turn to goo. It felt so good, it all was so much, almost too much, and yet not enough.

            Francis tapped his fingers against Alfred’s hipbone.

            _‘Click, click.’_

            No hesitation.

            The vibrations increased. Alfred’s pleasure grew. He let out a shout as a crop came down unexpectedly, eventually expected, on the upper part of his right rib cage. Pain mixed with pleasure. It fizzed under his skin as a red welt appeared, followed by another, and another.

            Alfred wondered what he sounded like, wondered what the others were thinking.

            But, he also realized, he didn’t care. This was his and Francis’ alone, whether someone was there or not. They had done this for thirty years and they would continue to do so. Hopefully for a long time.

            The crop was finally set down only to be replaced with the hummingbird vibrator. It started at the tip of his cock, which made him throw his head back and toes curl, before it trailed down the underside, brushing around his balls, across his perineum, around his hole, and back.

            It was maddening. An itch he couldn’t scratch, one he didn’t want to. Choked laughter, moans, and a mixture of everything else sounded out. Nails scratched down his stomach again, and again. Pain, pleasure, tickling, Francis; it was all Francis.

            Alfred would never get enough.

            He came again rather suddenly, Francis’ eyes darkening at pearl white against dark skin. Alfred was beautiful, undone and on the brink of falling deep into pleasure without end. He finally leaned up, kissing Alfred’s eyelids with soft pecks, letting himself press kiss after kiss down Alfred’s body as he took out the now still vibrator. Alfred’s breaths were uneven, quick. He was covered in what Francis had done, what he had allowed Francis to do.

            Alfred finally looked down as his legs were allowed to drop to the bed free of their bonds, Francis pulling off his pants and boxers before crawling back towards the American. He hadn’t cum once yet while Alfred’s stomach and thighs were covered in clear and white fluids. Sweat ran down his skin shining in the lowlight.

            He begged with his eyes, tears glistening on his lashes.

           Francis picked his legs up, putting them over his shoulders after he put on more lube, pressing kisses against Alfred’s legs near his knees as he slid in. Alfred felt full, very full. He rolled his hips wanting the other to move.

            And Francis did, slowly at first, sliding in and out shallowly as Alfred’s moans cracked. His skin, his whole body, felt hypersensitive by this point, seeing white every time he closed his eyes. Francis picked up speed grasping at Alfred’s hips in a bruising grip.

            Alfred wished he could wear those bruises proudly for days, for weeks. He wished when he got up in the morning, his backside would ache and he and Francis could have an excuse, a true excuse, to stay in bed all day. Wished he would have to wear a turtleneck or scarf or makeup to hide what Francis had marked as his.

            Alfred wished. He truthfully did.

            Skin slapped against skin, Alfred was boneless, warm. Happy. In love.

            Francis untied the self made cock ring. Alfred made noise, a noise, tears spilled down his cheeks. He came. Francis did. Soft. Everything was warm and soft and safe. Francis.

            He didn’t notice the others leave.

           He did notice when Francis sat over him messaging his jaw as the gag was taken out, pressing a straw to his lips like every other time. He drank it, swallowed. Soft whispers filled his ears next. He could drown in their love. In this love.

            He blinked. Alfred sat up to find himself in Francis’ bath. The man in question was running a hand through his hair, his finger nails rubbing along his scalp. The already healing welts stung in the warm water, but he welcomed it.

            Alfred tilted his head back to kiss Francis’ wrist, the hand coming down to cup Alfred’s cheek.

            “Hey,” he mumbled out, looking at the other with all the adoration he could muster.

            “Hey yourself, was that a bit too much for you tonight?” Francis asked, concerned.

            “Nope, it was what I needed,” he paused, “What I wanted. It, you, felt great. I loved it. Thank you.”

            Francis smiled, shoulders bouncing up and down with silent laughter. Alfred watched as he leaned over to grab the mango shampoo, which was on its last legs. Alfred closed his eyes as Francis washed his hair, leaving the suds in as he washed at Alfred’s body next. Face, shoulders, arms, chest, descending.

            Alfred stood up out of the chilling water half an hour later, legs shaking as he stepped over the lip, a towel wrapping around his body. The air was warm, comforting. His hair was dried and brushed. He wore an old t shirt with a hole at one of the seams.

            He fell asleep with his head tucked under Francis’ chin, their legs tangled together underneath new sheets. It was if nothing had changed.

            And, nothing really had, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that ended up being longer and more plot filled then I ever intended it to be. Oops? Not to mention the first time I am writing actual all out porn ends up being this. So, sorry if it sucks. The idea wouldn't leave even after months of trying to ignore it. Hope you enjoyed, comments/kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> (This now also has a prequel called, If Only, Dearest)


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